


eating me alive

by cherryleclerc



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreaking, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Platonic Soulmates, but has a nice ending don't worry, reassurance, screw red bull, short but sweet, soft, the Seat loss, this is just sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29567013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryleclerc/pseuds/cherryleclerc
Summary: george is there when alex gets the news
Relationships: Alexander Albon/George Russell
Kudos: 37





	eating me alive

**Author's Note:**

> hi besties💋
> 
> more self inflicted pain but also softness i just wanted to write something sad again  
> i love these two so much, the vgp's have been so fun and it's making me miss alex but i can't wait to see him in DTM!!! he'll be amazing omg......
> 
> as always, this is fiction so don't take it seriously and obvs don't show the drivers lol
> 
> follow me on twt if you want @ricciardko <333

Alex feels sick.

He’s been staring at the black screen of his phone since 12, and it’s now almost 2pm. He just wants to know, wants to let the fear settle down in favour or something different.

George is in the living room, sat on the couch as he taps through his phone, not a speck of relaxation present in him in the moment, he’s just scared for Alex. With Sergio now being an immense current contender for his seat, all George can do is hold his breath and hope that any bad news doesn’t completely destroy the poor man. Then he hears it.

The soft breath of a “hello” into the phone, and George stops scrolling and listens, holding his breath once again as he tries to make out the tone of his friend’s voice through the half closed door and narrow hallway. It feels like hours, and Alex doesn’t do much talking, and that tightness just settles on George’s chest even heavier.

“Okay, thank you.”

And then it all goes quiet again, bar a couple of soft shuffles that almost sounds like hoodie being tugged on, George has heard that sound plenty of times from the game nights he’s spent over, when he’s surrounded by the darkness of the living room as he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone again. But there’s no happy aura to the sound this time, like there usually is. It’s instead a pull of pain and needed comfort, something Alex can use to keep him grounded.

George waits for Alex to make the call of coming into the living room by himself, wants to give him space if he needs it and not overwhelm him further, scared that it’ll only do more hurt than good, even if he knows Alex. It takes a few minutes before he sees the door slowly open, revealing Alex’s deflated frame, swallowed up in a hoodie that George is _pretty_ sure is one of his, his eyes rimmed with red as the tear tracks are harshly scrubbed away with his sleeve, and George can see him willing himself to breathe steady as they both look at each other, the Williams driver slowly rising from the couch, as if any sudden movement will scare Alex back into his room and under the safety of the covers.

It takes him a moment, and it comes out scratchy and broken. “They gave him the seat.”

George’s heart stops, and Alex looks completely _lost_.

“Alex, I-“ He gets cut off by a sob, as Alex desperately tries to muffle himself with the hoodie sleeve as he squeezes his eyes shut, the pain etched into every groove of his skin.

George doesn’t hesitate to close the gap and pull Alex into his chest, wrapping his arms across the man’s shoulder blades and the other just above his waist as Alex gasps for breath, his cold fingers gripping the back of George’s t-shirt as he cries into the crook of his shoulder, their heads on each other’s shoulders, as George whispers to him about how he’s still so proud of how far Alex has come and how this is never the end, how he’ll get another chance and this is all just learning, and pretends he doesn’t notice the way Alex’s grip tightens on his t-shirt as he cries harder.

It takes time until Alex’s fingers relax as he sniffles, prying himself away from George as he wipes his nose on his sleeve, his cheeks raw from the tears as he breathes in.

“I hope you’ll wash that hoodie before I get it back.” George jokes, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips as Alex huffs out a laugh, and it feels like pure _music_.

George tugs on his sleeve and pulls Alex back to his bedroom, crawling under the covers as he opens his arms and lets Alex settle his head on George’s chest, as his fingers card through the older man’s hair, hoping it helps him relax.

George hates how fragile Alex is, that someone so bubbly can be shot down so hard and have no way of unwrapping himself, and as Alex falls asleep to the soft lull of his breathing and the thump of his heart, George can only pray that the coming year is easier.

The grid already feels empty, but George knows Alex will be there again in time.


End file.
